


Don't Leave Me Alone With Me

by peterjackson



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Buildings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of PTSD, PTSD, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony finds out about the Vulture incident, Vulture - Freeform, Whump, adrian toomes - Freeform, between homecoming and infinity war, collapsed buildings, post-Homecoming, so irondad is still developing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterjackson/pseuds/peterjackson
Summary: Peter landed on his side, ears ringing violently and thoughts hazy. He was shaking, or at least he thought he was, until he hazily looked down. The building was shaking. He snapped his head around to look through a window and watched dust and rubble start to fall past the glass.“--Peter,” Karen said loudly in his ear when the ringing stopped just enough for him to hear the AI’s urgent voice. “You need to get out of there. The building’s unstable. It’s going to collapse---”Peter furiously moved for the window he’d broken on his way in but he knew with growing dread that he wasn’t going to make it. His mask lit up at the last second, and he ducked into the only spot highlighted in green.When he looked up, it was to see the building come down on top of his head.-+-Peter gets trapped under a building during a battle. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been the second time.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 159
Collections: The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	Don't Leave Me Alone With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperowl/gifts).



> Hello and thanks for reading (drop a comment of even a heart <3 if you liked it.)
> 
> This is part of the friendly neighborhood (fic) exchange and it is for paperowl (Ao3)/papered-owl (Tumblr). I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it :D
> 
> -+-
> 
> This fic is set between Spider-Man Homecoming and Infinity War, so Tony and Peter aren't completely comfortable with each other yet. It's not canon compliant but it doesn't stray from canon either so make of that what you will. Enjoy :)

Peter was taking a break from his patrol when the text came in, flashing across the HUD he was still getting used to in glaring red font:

From TONY STARK:  _ Problem in Manhattan. Want to swing by? Your AI has the address. _

Peter nearly dropped the half-eaten churro he was holding in his haste to stand up before tossing the remainder of it to a nearby pigeon. When duty called -- or really, when  _ Tony Stark  _ called -- sacrifices had to be made.

“Tell him I’m on my way, Karen,” Peter said as he pulled his mask down to cover his whole face. “And, uh, let May know what’s going on.”

“Affirmative, Peter,” Karen replied, and he grinned before shooting a web at a nearby skyscraper and pulling himself up into the air.

Already, Karen was plotting the fastest route to get to the fight, and Peter wasn’t wasting any time. Lately, Mr. Stark had seemed to be making some semblance of an effort to keep Peter more than just on the radar, but it had been a while since Peter had been called in to actually  _ help  _ anywhere. He didn’t want to let Mr. Stark down -- like, ever. 

“Okay, Karen, fill me in. What’s going on?”

Karen’s chirpy response was immediate. “News reports indicate that flying robots have been attacking upper Manhattan. No civilian casualties have been reported as of yet and police officers have begun evacuation procedures.”

Peter groaned. “Killer flying robots  _ again _ ? Do these villains not have any originality?” 

The only time that Mr. Stark ever seemed to call Peter in was for fighting off robots. Apparently, there was more Chitauri tech circulating than either of them had thought, though Peter could only imagine how much worse it would be if the run of the mill villains doing things like stationing attacks on Manhattan would have gotten their hands on any of the Stark tech on the plane that Peter had saved from the Vulture.

“Based on data from recent encounters, it would appear they do not,” Karen asked, seeming to miss the rhetorical part of Peter’s question.

He laughed. “Alright, I’m glad I have statistics to back me up. Who’s there right now?”

“Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes are at the scene.”

Peter faltered, missing a mark with his web and sending one into thin air. He swore as he shot out another and clumsily swung around the side of a building. “That’s it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Karen replied, managing to sound genuinely sorry. 

“Hm,” Peter said, growing more serious as he realized that without the help of anyone else, this fight had the potential to grow very, very messy. “What’s our ETA, Karen?”

“You are two minutes out.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

“No problem, Peter.”

Peter was approaching the fight before he knew it, and despite what he was coming up to, he was filled with a familiar rush of exhilaration when the silhouettes of the robots came into view. As soon as he was in range, Karen patched him into the communications channel Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes were using, and Peter flipped onto a roof as his ears exploded with noise and chaos, loud from the battle beneath him.

“--on your left, Tony--”

“--got it--”

“--ETA on Spider-Man--?”

“I’m here,” Peter chimed in, leaping off the roof and propelling himself onto a nearby building to get a closer look. “What’s going on Mr. Stark?”

“An anonymous source just sent dozens of these things into the sky,” he grunted, and Peter could see the Iron Man suit blasting a flurry of robots out of the sky. “Apparent motive is unknown. We’re fighting to disable and destroy them.”

“You got it,” Peter said, taking quick stock of the situation. “Chitauri?”

“Only of course.”

Peter grimaced, eyes following a robot as it careened his way. He quickly shot a web at the thing, jamming its robotic propellers and sending it spiraling towards the ground. The robots were vicious, and clearly more advanced than the ones he’d faced over the last two months when his encounters with bots were more frequent. The robots had long, wicked-looking blades for arms and razor-sharp propellers that made it impossible to get too close without getting slashed to pieces. Right before he sent another robot slamming into the empty street below, Peter noticed a glowing purple core in the thing’s chest area behind a thin framework of steel resembling a ribcage.

“Has the area been evacuated?”Peter grit out as he leaped into the fray, using a web to pull a bot into his ready fist, where he smashed it into a mess of shattered circuitry and crushed metal, all while deftly avoiding the blades extended his way.

Rhodey’s response was prompt. “The robots seemed to be linked to this specific quadrant of the city. They won’t go anywhere else. Police have evacuated the buildings inside this quadrant.”

So everything seemed to be under control then. Except… Peter didn’t think that was the end of it. It couldn’t be. The robots were numerous, sharp, but not much more than annoying in the grand scheme of things. Left unchecked, they’d probably wreak havoc on civilians but damage to surrounding areas was minimal. Why would a villain even bother?

As he wove around the side of a building to send a bot to an early demise, his skin crawled. He took out the bot and stopped, perched on the side of the building. They had to have been fighting for the better part of thirty minutes, but the robots had barely seemed to decrease in number.

Peter’s eyes narrowed on a swarm of bots rising from out of nowhere, and heading straight for Mr. Stark. Only the core in their chest wasn’t purple… it was red? And flashing instead of just glowing. That could only be bad news, a thought further emphasized by his spider sense flaring violently. 

Peter punted a bot out of his way as he moved without thinking, swinging himself forward and furiously heading towards Mr. Stark. The swarm had broke apart, probably overwhelming Mr. Stark’s built-in sensors, but one was heading right for his back, and Peter had to act fast---

He slammed into the bot, sending it flying onto a nearby rooftop seconds before it exploded. In the seconds that it took for Peter to slam into the rooftop of an adjacent building, he was only relieved that he’d managed to get the thing away from Mr. Stark.

“Peter!” Mr. Stark yelled sharply, as the blast carried Peter onto a nearby rooftop, where he landed sloppily. 

“I’m fine,” Peter managed, shooting a web and pulling himself up. “The blast radius on that thing is insane!”

“Blast radius?” Rhodey asked quickly. “What are you talking about?”

“The robot exploded,” Mr. Stark explained hastily as he and Peter fought back to back. “It was rigged with a bomb. The kid stopped it.”

“What the hell do we do then?”

“Keep it contained,” Mr. Stark bit out, returning the favor and blasting away a robot that Peter hadn’t managed to take out. “I think this was the last resort for whoever the hell sent these things out here.”

“Watch out for the cores in their chests,” Peter cut in. “The purple ones are fine, but the red ones explode.”

“Friday, you got that?”

_ “Affirmative, Boss, _ ” a faint female voice said from inside Mr. Stark’s suit.

The intensity of the fight surged, leaving little room for more chatter. Peter could barely keep track of all the robots swarming around him. Without Karen and his spider sense, he would have been toast. 

“Kid, watch your six,” Mr. Stark called in his ear, and Peter barely managed to propel himself away from an exploding bot. 

“I am not looking forward to cleanup,” he breathed, circling back to hopefully cut the numbers down on these things. 

Rhodey laughed in his earpiece and Peter grinned to himself, heartbeat galloping irregularly as the fight dragged on. Already his muscles were getting sore from having to snap himself back and forth to avoid getting blown to bits. Exertion made his skin damp with sweat, and he vaguely yearned for a shower. He’d already been patrolling for hours before Mr. Stark had asked for help (and jeez, saying there was a “problem” in Manhattan was a severe understatement; these things bypassed problematic and went straight to catastrophic.) So yeah. The exhaustion was compounding. 

Maybe that’s why his next movements were too slow.

The robot slammed into his chest like a truck before he even knew what hit him, drawing a swear out of his mouth and sending him smashing through the window of a building behind him. Glass caught his fall and he groaned.

“Kid, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunted, rolling to his feet. “I just---”

His spider sense flared and Peter threw his hands up to cover his head as two of the robots who had followed him into the building exploded. The double explosion knocked him sideways, rattling his bones and sending heat searing over his body as he was tossed backwards like a wet rag.

Peter landed on his side, ears ringing violently and thoughts hazy. He was shaking, or at least he thought he was, until he hazily looked down. The  _ building  _ was shaking. He snapped his head around to look through a window and watched dust and rubble start to fall past the glass.

“--Peter,” Karen said loudly in his ear when the ringing stopped just enough for him to hear the AI’s urgent voice. “You need to get out of there. The building’s unstable. It’s going to collapse---”

Peter furiously moved for the window he’d broken on his way in but he knew with growing dread that he wasn’t going to make it. His mask lit up at the last second, and he ducked into the only spot highlighted in green.

When he looked up, it was to see the building come down on top of his head.

When Peter opened his eyes again, everything was still. The dust had settled. The building had stopped groaning and contorting. Darkness blanketed him, wrapped around him like a too-tight glove. For a moment, it was quiet: so quiet that it made Peter’s stomach swoop. He wasn’t even sure he was alive until his ears exploded with noise: staticky voices and explosions from his comms. The battle was still live, but Peter was… he was down. No --- worse. 

He was stuck.  _ Again.  _

“Karen,” he said hoarsely, furiously trying to stave off the approaching panic attack before it swallowed him up. “Karen, can they hear me?”

“You are muted,” came her monotonous reply.

Peter let out a hitched breath, clenching his teeth so hard he thought he might crack them. There was dust all over him, covering his mask and making the darkness thicker and impenetrable. He would need to take it off, or at least wipe it off if he wanted to regain his bearings, but that would mean moving and possibly upsetting whatever high-stakes Jenga tower he was under and the thought of  _ that  _ sent terror so sharp and icy through him that it took his breath away.

Or maybe what took his breath away was the notion that the second worst experience of his life was unfolding again.

Except this time, Peter wasn’t stuck under a warehouse.

He was stuck under a skyscraper.

The pocket he was in was barely big enough for him, that much was made clear even without sight. He was on his back, with both of his legs pinned down under something, and even though his arms were free, he could barely bring them up towards his mask. The left one felt broken. Moving it drew a strangled gasp from his throat so he swallowed and switched to his right, which wasn’t much better. He was pretty sure the cloud of shock and maybe adrenaline wrapped around his brain was muting the true nature of his injuries but he was more grateful than concerned. Karen hadn’t told him he was bleeding to death, at least. He cautiously lifted his right arm.

“Peter,” came Karen’s voice as his gloved fingers shakily slipped beneath the edge of his mask. “I would advise you not to remove your mask while the air filter is functioning.”

Peter’s hands stilled: he hadn’t considered that. The air filter, because of course Mr. Stark had thought of everything. Peter clenched his teeth and wiped off the dusty lenses of his mask instead. Almost immediately, his eyes started to adjust. Karen turned on night vision without any further prompting.

He almost regretted being able to see. The panic he had staved off before punched through his chest with a new fury as he stared up at the rubble trapping him. It was terrifying. 

There was about two feet of space between his chest and the makeshift ceiling, which looked so fragile that Peter was surprised it wasn’t crushing him. He could see bent rebar and warped metal barely holding up literal tons of chunks of concrete and steel. Glass that he hadn’t noticed before was shattered and spread out beneath him, crunching and grinding into his back against the concrete floor he was on whenever he shifted.

And then there were his legs. A long pillar thing had fallen, trapping them, holding them down, crushing them, crushing  _ him. _

When Peter’s next breaths came, they came short and staccato, choppy and loud in the silence that came with being buried by tons of concrete. Peter’s heartbeat pounded so loud in his ears that he almost couldn’t hear his comms anymore, but he managed to tune in when he heard mentions of his name.

“Peter, we saw the building go down. Are you okay?”

His first instinct was a guttural cry for help, but he managed to stifle the panic down and swallowed dryly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want help. Even laying there in the dark with an invisible fist wrapped around his heart --- squeezing it --- he recognized that they were shorthanded. It was just Rhodey and Mr. Stark and how could Peter draw them away from a fight that still needed to be wrapped up? He couldn’t.

“I’m fine,” he managed tightly. “But I’m done. I can’t---”

“ _ Shit,  _ Rhodey I found it,” Mr. Stark interrupted with a breathy edge of exhilaration. “I found the source.”

“Can we disable it?” came Rhodey’s voice, crackly from interference on Peter’s part.

“I think so,” Mr. Stark replied rapidly. “Peter, are you secure? Can we wrap this up first?”

Something shifted and Peter squeezed his eyes shut as rubble closed in around him. This time, it wasn’t just the building that was shaking and Peter needed to get himself off the comms before he lost it basically in front of them.

“I’ll be okay.” And that wasn’t exactly a lie. He was pretty sure he’d be fine, except that as the panic increased so did the awareness that he was hurting in places he hadn’t noticed before. “Finish it.”

“Alright, see you in a minute kid.”

Peter severely doubted it, but he wasted no time in gasping, “Karen,  _ mute _ ” before the panic swallowed him whole.

Peter clenched his fists tightly and tried to breathe, but his eyes were burning and his chest was so tight he had to make sure that the rubble hadn’t crushed it after all. Moving was impossible and looking up made everything worse. How easily could this come down? All it would take is one stray explosion from a stupid robot and he could be done for. Peter shut his eyes to try and shut everything out.

A pipe burst somewhere above him and he flinched, eyes shooting open. The mass of destroyed rubble shifted, some of it coming down farther, closer to him, and he crossed his hands over his chest --- groaning when his left arm positively  _ throbbed  _ but at least he was ready to hold something up in case it fell. 

A few seconds later, something did fall. It was water, and it was  _ freezing.  _ His whole body felt like he’d dipped it into an icy pond, even though the water coming down was barely more than the sprinklers at school he’d set off on accident during chemistry.

“Peter, you still there? Karen won’t give me a read on your condition.”

_ So he’d tried _ , Peter thought to himself as he instructed Karen to unmute. “I think some of her sensors were damaged when I--- uh, took the hit.” He craned his neck back when water sloshed onto his face. He was starting to shiver and his awareness seemed to be ebbing. “Are you guys almost, uh, almost done?”

“Just about, underoos,” Mr. Stark said, and Peter couldn’t even find the energy to be embarrassed about the nickname. “Hang tight.”   
  


Haha. “Not like I have a choice,” Peter mumbled to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just let me know when you are on your way, okay?”

His voice was quieter than he’d meant, and Mr. Stark seemed to hesitate over the comms, like he should notice something, but the man didn’t. Peter sighed in short relief, almost grateful that the man didn’t know enough to call his bluff.

Peter had stopped sending voicemails to Mr. Stark’s phone a long time ago, especially after the Vulture incident (which he quickly put out of his mind before he lost it again.) Peter barely went over to the Avengers Compound. He only went over with Happy when there was an actual mission and when that was the case, he didn’t have a chance to say much to his mentor. So that was that.

Peter tried to doze off if only to muffle his torrent of thoughts, but every time he let his guard down, his enhanced senses picked up some sound that sent pure panic racing through him. The water had stopped after a while, but Peter was already wet --- so much so that he didn’t know which parts of him were bloody and which were just rained on. 

“How long ‘as it been, Karen?” Peter whispered, shifting and wincing when broken glass dragged on his back. 

“Twenty-seven minutes, Peter,” came her soft reply, and Peter nodded to himself dazedly.

Not much longer, then. Or at least he hoped. Over the comms which he kept forgetting to stay tuned in to, the sounds of the battle seemed to be dying. If Mr. Stark had found the source of the bots like he’d claimed, it  _ had  _ to be drawing to a close. 

Maybe fifteen minutes later, Peter had just found the closest thing to sleep that he could under the circumstances when Mr. Stark let out a victorious whoop. Peter shifted, hope sharpening some of the senses that had been dulled with the growing exhaustion pulling at his eyelids.

“You did it?” he asked, coughing a little after.

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark confirmed with a breathy, battle-worn laugh. “They’re disabled.”

Peter sighed in relief, but carefully, because any movement --- even breathing --- hurt. His left arm had stopped burning, had settled into a tame throb. His legs were numb from the cold but he could feel his toes so he attributed the numbness that drenched him from his chest down to the rust-smelling water.

“--Underoos? You there?” Mr. Stark was asking before Peter even realized he’d zoned out. He was in worse shape than he thought he was. Maybe because he knew he could finally get out of the suffocating pocket of dusty air he’d been trapped in for the better part of the last hour. “Peter? Spider-Man?”

Peter coughed. “What? Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Well, Karen isn’t telling me anything, kid. You sure did a number on her, huh?”

There it was again. That subtle edge of concern that Peter wasn’t sure was real. “You could say that.”

“We’re heading back,” Rhodey said into the comms. “Where are you down at, Spider-Man?”

“Uh, the building. The one that fell, I’m---” The building shifted and Peter’s heart nearly broke free of his ribcage. “Be careful, uh, I’m under it.”

If he hadn’t heard the sharp inhale that followed, Peter would have sworn that the comms had broken what for the way it went silent. Peter tried not to be embarrassed but even in his rapidly deteriorating state of consciousness, he recognized that he had severely messed up in letting himself get taken down --- and like  _ this,  _ of all ways.

“Peter--- Kid,  _ what--- _ ” Mr. Stark choked out. He raggedly cleared his throat. “Where are--- nevermind, Friday, track--- yeah, okay--- hold on, kid, I’m coming. Just hang on, alright?”

Peter nodded to himself, breathing hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Mr. Stark said quickly. “Rhodey, are you---?”

“On your right, Tones,” Rhodey said tensely, voice hard. 

Peter would have flinched if he wasn’t so afraid to move. The colonel seemed pissed --- at Peter? He set his jaw and closed his eyes. He had acted like a complete idiot. If it wasn’t bad that he hadn’t managed to escape the collapsing building in time, he had lost his crap in the dark and probably all of Mr. Stark’s trust.

He thought of the first time he’d met Rhodey, that first fight with Mr. Stark after things with the Vulture and Liz had settled down --- 

_ “Tony, remind me. Who is this guy again?”  _

_ “He’s good; a good kid. Like an intern of mine, except he’s jacked.” _

_ “Mr. Stark, really---?” _

_ “You know it’s the truth, kid. Anyways, I’m showing him the ropes but he can handle his own. We can trust him, Rhodey.” _

_ “You can, Colonel Rhodes, I swear---” _

_ “Hm,” Rhodey had said, disbelieving. “It’s just Rhodey, Spider-Man.” To Tony: “Can I at least get a name?” _

_ “Uh, well, he actually---” _

_ “It’s Peter, Mr. Rhodes sir.” _

_ “Kid, really? I thought you said---” _

_ “I thought  _ you  _ said I can trust him?” _

_ “I did--- you can--- of course you can, I---” _

_ “It’s still Rhodey, you can drop the mister. And how old---” _

_ “Like I said, I’m just showing him the ropes.”  _

Peter groaned and came back to the present when the rubble shifted, some of it falling down onto his face, crumbling and sliding against mask and he squeezed his eyes shut again---

“Is that you guys? Above me, is that---”

“We’re right here, Spider-Man,” Rhodey said reassuringly through the comms. “Just calm down. We’re almost to you.”

Peter nodded sharply even though he couldn’t see. He’d let himself panic, and now that they were close, he had to grit his teeth and get through it. Easier said than done.

The building shifted again --- worse than anytime before --- and he barely managed to hold back the terrified cry that threatened to leap out of his throat as a chunk of concrete the size of a watermelon dislodged from the unsteady ceiling above him and smashed down four inches away from his head. The entire building was groaning now, but the fear in Peter’s chest didn’t have a chance to spike before a metal-enclosed arm shot through the destroyed wall behind and above Peter’s head.

The Iron Man gauntlet.

For the first time since the building collapsed, Peter breathed. Or at least, he breathed easier. Above him were Iron Man and War Machine --- or was it the Iron Patriot now? Superhero politics were a mess and Peter didn’t want to exert brain power on anything other than getting the hell out of the pocket he was in. Either way, help had come.

“Mr. Stark,” he breathed, squinting violently through his mask as blinding daylight filled the space that darkness had just occupied. “Hey.”

Mr. Stark’s expression was shielded and stoney behind his helmet, but his voice betrayed the man’s relief. And maybe some anger that made Peter’s chest dry. “Hey yourself, kid. Ready to get out of here?”

Peter just nodded, gritting his teeth as the superheroes worked around him, carefully moving and stabilizing the rubble trapping him. 

“You’re a lucky kid,” Rhodey said softly, sounding like he was farther away than he was, like at the back of a subway tunnel. That must have just been Peter. “You couldn’t have landed in a better spot.”

“Thanks to Karen,” Peter mumbled, wishing he could raise an arm to cover his eyes. His headache was worsening. Unfortunately, his arm felt even worse and he didn’t have enough energy to get his unbroken one up anyways.

“Karen?” Rhodey hedged, like maybe he thought Peter had a head injury or something.

To be fair, he probably did, but Karen was very real. Definitely not a hallucination.

“His AI,” Mr. Stark cut in with a short laugh. “And no, I didn’t name it.”

“It’s a good name,” Peter insisted weakly.

“Huh.” Rhodey sounded like he didn’t know what to make of that.

As they cautiously worked, Peter didn’t know how to feel. He was tired --- so tired --- but at the same time was unwilling to let himself pass out until he was in the clear, and especially not in front of two of his heroes. 

Apparently his brain had other ideas. The thought of sleep had just barely crossed his mind when his eyelids started to droop. The fog from before was back, flooding his brain. Except instead of making everything cottony and jumbled, he felt relaxed. The exhaustion was crashing and so was his will to stop it.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna…”

He passed out.

-+-

The first thing Peter registered when the darkness in his brain thinned was the sound of voices, nearby and angry but hushed. He knew a whisper fight when he heard it and decided against opening his eyes; that seemed like too much work anyways in the warmth of… wherever he was. The notion that he was most likely in the Medbay of the Compound comforted him, but the two people arguing quietly did not.

“ _ \--- _ what the hell were you thinking? _ ”  _ That sounded like Colonel Rhodes, or--- just Rhodey. Right. He’d almost forgotten. Rhodey sounded ragged. “A kid? And how old? Sixteen?”

“You knew he was a kid---”

“I knew he was  _ young _ ,” Rhodey whisper-snapped back. “It’s not like I had more than his name to go off of---”

“It’s better than it looks, okay?”

_ “I just pulled a  _ kid  _ from a collapsed building,”  _ Rhodey heaved. “What could make that better?”

“You think I wanted him to do this?” Mr. Stark’s voice was rising, and Peter almost winced. “I don’t need a genius IQ to know that it’s dangerous. But he was a superhero before I was in the picture, Rhodey. I couldn’t keep Peter off the streets if I tried, okay? And I tried.” He let out an exhausted laugh. “I did try, okay? I’m doing the best I can. I’m helping him out. Taking him under my wing. It’s better than leaving him to his own devices. At least if he gets hurt or needs help, I can help him.”

There was a pause before finally, “This is insane.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Mr. Stark breathed. “You should have seen the first suit he had. Glorified pajamas, I’m telling you.” 

A pause and Peter didn’t know if he should open his eyes and let them know he was awake or keep listening. It only took Rhodey to angrily burst, “And what the hell was  _ he  _ thinking?” to convince him to stay “asleep.”

“He’s a good kid,” Mr. Stark answered. “He wanted to help people---”

“Not that,” Rhodey snapped, barely managing to keep quiet, as if it mattered anymore. “Why didn’t he call for us, huh? Jesus, he just stayed under there for… how long? Forty-minutes? An hour?”

Mr. Stark didn’t say anything, just let the tense silence pass.

“He could have died,” Rhodey said finally. “He almost did. Christ.” Another pause, a little longer than the last ones, and Peter swore they were looking at him. “Really needed to scare me half to death, didn’t you kid?”

  
They were definitely looking at him.

“Come on,” Mr. Stark muttered quietly. “Let’s go. I’ll check on him, later, okay?”

“Sure.”

“And we should probably get you something to drink,” Mr. Stark mused as they walked farther away. “Maybe a coffee?”

Rhodey scoffed out a laugh. “I think I need a Xanax.”

They both laughed, easier, and a door snicked shut right as the room went silent again.

Peter wanted to open his eyes, but he’d gotten too comfortable. Warmth was wrapped around him, dragging him down down down until he barely remembered what he was trying to think about.

By the time Peter drifted to consciousness, he was done with being tired. That wasn’t to say he was energetic, but when he came to, he wanted to stay awake. Wanted to figure things out now while he had the chance and hopefully, he realized with growing dread, avoid the wrath of Aunt May.

Opening his eyes underneath the bright lights of the stark room he was in was almost worse than opening them when the rubble around him had first been shifted to make way for blinding sunlight. He blinked rapidly as he waited for his brain to filter out some of the brightness.

It didn’t happen. Or at least, it wasn’t happening quickly.

Peter tentatively tried to sit upright (maneuvering around his newly-casted left arm) as a headache pulsed at the middle of the back of his skull, free hand reaching out to find a call button or something. The assault on his eyes was so bad that he couldn’t think straight. He always forgot how bad his senses got right after long battles, and this one had certainly been long. 

Peter whipped his head up when he saw a flash of movement towards the approximate door shape. It was a head, bent and peeking through the doorway. As soon as Peter got a look at the face, the silhouette stepped into the doorway.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter croaked in confusion. “What---”

  
“Just checking in,” Mr. Stark said quickly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Good thing I did, huh? What’s wrong?”

“Lights,” Peter managed. “Can you turn them down?”   
  
Realization crossed Mr. Stark’s face. “Ah, dialled to eleven right? Friday, lights.”

The AI responded instantly, but not verbally. The lights immediately dimmed, and Peter relaxed. The headache was already fading, but the rest of his pain wasn’t. Peter shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, because he hadn’t wasted a thought on wha moving around might do to aggravate his injuries.

And aggravate his injuries he had. Peter winced as pain flared in his arm --- casted or not --- his knuckles, his legs, and his back. His back was probably torn to shreds because of the glass. His whole body hurt, now that he stopped to think about it, but mainly in a few spots.

Peter didn’t complain --- he’d take the pain to being stuck under a building any day --- but he didn’t have to say anything for Mr. Stark to read him like a book. The man’s face pulled with sympathy.

“I have a doctor working on synthesizing pain meds for you,” Mr. Stark told him, easing into a plush-backed chair near Peter’s fancy hospital bed. “But we had to give you some of, uh, Steve’s for now.”

Peter nodded, toying with the sheet draped over his lap. “Where am I, again?”

“The Medbay in my tower---”

  
“Your tower? I thought---”

“I didn’t tell you?” Mr. Stark asked curiously, cocking his head. Peter shook his head minutely. “I bought it back. Figured if I was going to be your mentor and all I should have a base, with a Medbay of course, nearby.”

Peter blinked. “You bought the tower back to help me?”

  
Mr. Stark shrugged, almost managing to look nonchalant. “Good thing I did. Didn’t think I’d need the Medbay so soon though, to be honest.” He glanced back at Peter with a hint of a smile. “It’s mostly office now. I kept my penthouse though, for you if you ever need to drop by. And the Medbay too, in case you ever get webbed up over your head.”

Peter blinked again when he heard that nugget of information but he managed to put his shock aside and ask hesitantly, “So, uh, what happened? After I, uh---”

“Passed out?” Mr. Stark finished, face darkening a hint. “Rhodey and I managed to get you out. Think you gave us about three heart attacks though when we got a good look at you.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Three  _ each. _ ”

Peter dropped his gaze. “He’s mad at me.”

“You heard that? Well, you’re kind of right. But he’s not mad at you because you messed up or whatever is going through your noble brain right now. Actually, I’m a little peeved too. So tell me.” Peter glanced up with a grimace. “Why didn’t you say anything? I know your comms were working.”

“I, uh, well…”

“Well?”

“I didn’t want to bother you guys,” Peter blurted, eyes widening when he read on Mr. Stark’s face that that was the Wrong Answer. “Uh, I mean there was only two of you with me down and there was like way too many robots for you to handle so I figured--- okay, so maybe I should have said something.”

“Right answer, kid,” Mr. Stark said, but his voice was a little tight. “Alright, second question.”

“Oh, jeez.”

“What did you mean by ‘not again?’”

Peter froze. “What?”

“You woke up for a minute,” Mr. Stark began lightly. “After you first passed out. You were muttering that phrase. ‘Not again.’ And you were talking about Toomes…?” Peter’s mouth was too dry to get a word out. “You were talking about the plane, right? The plane. Peter?”

“I guess I never told you about that night, huh?” Peter said weakly after he managed to find his words. “Toomes uh, he… well. He dropped a building on me.” 

He tried for a laugh and fell short. As if he could ever laugh about that. But the last thing Peter wanted to do was tell Mr. Stark about it. About how helpless he’d been. About how he’d screamed himself hoarse calling for someone that wasn’t there. About how bad he’d let himself fall apart when he was alone. 

“It turned out okay. I got out and followed him and took down the plane and well, you know the rest.” There was silence again that Peter hurried to fill. “It was okay though,” he reiterated. “I guess it happening again just was… too much.”

Peter wondered how many other people had managed to render Tony Stark speechless. Probably not a lot. 

Mr. Stark blinked, like a lot, before finally saying, “What part of you getting a building dropped on you is okay? You know what, scratch that. Why didn’t you tell me? Who were you trying to save by keeping it in, anyway?”

“Well, it’s not like you made it easy,” he found himself almost-snapping defensively. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Mr. Stark said slowly. “But we’re changing things up, alright? I don’t want you to think you can’t tell me if you are literally dying so we’re going to do something about that.  _ After  _ you get better, of course. I can’t be passing on any of my bad habits.” He stood up, brushed imaginary dust off his thighs and headed towards the door.

Peter found himself straightening. “You’re leaving me here?”

Mr. Stark spun around. “Nope. Just stepping out to call your aunt---”

“You didn’t call my aunt yet?! She’s going to  _ kill  _ me,” Peter moaned.

“---and then I’m thinking we get to talking about an internship. Okay?”

“As long as you tell Aunt May that I physically could not text her, and therefore I should not be lectured for not checking in, then I think an internship would be, like, super cool Mr. Stark,” Peter said, beaming. “Thank you.”

“Your message will be relayed,” Mr. Stark answered, before his face became serious. “And can you drop the Mr. Stark now? Tony’s fine.”

Peter tilted his head, his brain flashing back to that time in Happy’s car with Mr. Stark. He couldn’t resist it.

“Thank you but, uh, I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Mr. Stark’s face dropped into an unimpressed scowl faster than a neuron firing off, making it more than worth it. Feeling like he was floating on clouds, and more relaxed than he’d been probably ever, Peter laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to leave kudos and drop a comment if you liked it!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at itsy-bitsy-spider-fan


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